


Peak Bloom

by ThirdGenerationRockette



Series: Cherry Blossom [1]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: 3.03, Angst, Correspondents Dinner fic, F/M, Smut, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 06:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13758072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdGenerationRockette/pseuds/ThirdGenerationRockette
Summary: It's after one in the morning by the time they get to the hotel and it's been a long day, a really long day. Despite that, she knows she won't be able to sleep if she tries now, as tightly wound up as she is, torn between anger at Will for his confident belief that he won't go to prison, and desperate hope that he's right.





	1. Chapter 1

It's after one in the morning by the time they get to the hotel and it's been a long day, a really long day. Despite that, she knows she won't be able to sleep if she tries now, as tightly wound up as she is, torn between anger at Will for his confident belief that he won't go to prison, and desperate hope that he's right. As if tonight wasn't enough for one weekend, they have to show up to the Correspondents Dinner tomorrow night and she will have to smile for the cameras, Will is going to have to play nice with the other guests, and all to impress Pruit. It makes her glad now that they made a deal on the way to DC to spend tomorrow not talking about any of it, to just spend Saturday together doing whatever takes their fancy. He had laughed at her insistence on "doing some tourist things" reminding her "honey, you do remember we used to live there, right?" A roll of her eyes had been enough to shut him up.

Throwing off her jacket and kicking her shoes under the small table in the corner of the room, she reaches for their suit bags, unzipping his first and hanging his suit up before turning to her bag and pulling her dress carefully out and doing the same. She lets out a long, weighted sigh and when she turns back, he's looking at her, a curious expression on his face and she's annoyed suddenly that he doesn't seem to understand why she's upset about all of this.

"It'll be fine, you know," he says, and his slight shrug winds her even tighter.

"No, actually, I don't know." She can't help the irritation in her voice and she sighs again. "And neither do you, despite your apparent confidence that you're too big, too _famous_ , to jail. I just hope you're right because even though you don't seem the slightest bit worried, I have absolutely no interest in seeing you go to prison."

"Mac." He steps closer and leans in towards her, smiling faintly at her. "You know as well as I do that Neal wouldn't have stood a fucking chance, his ass would have been thrown in a cell by now, and I-"

"Yes, I do know that." She raises her voice, and she knows he's right, but it doesn't mean she has to be happy about it. "But I'm not convinced that _you_ won't end up in there in his place, and even though there's a big part of me that wants to hug you for doing this for Neal, there's a bigger part of me that just wants to fucking yell at you."

"Go ahead." He shrugs again, stepping back. "If it'll help, yell at me, say what you want to say, it's better than you spending the whole weekend pissed at me."

"What makes you think it would only be the weekend?" she asks, pausing before continuing, still irritated at his apparent calm. "I know why you're doing it, but...were you ever planning on telling me you gave Neal your credit card? I mean, what the fuck were you thinking? You didn't think for a second how traceable that was?"

"I was thinking Neal needed an air gapped computer," he says, quietly. "I was thinking he probably doesn't have the cash to go buy one, I was thinking it would be better-"

"It would be better if it could be traced to you and not him." She sinks down on the bed, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress as the realisation sets in that Will knew exactly what he was doing right from the start and that she should have known it too. "That's what you were thinking."

"Like I said..." His voice is low and she hears the tiredness running through it, despite his pretence at bravado. "Neal would have landed in jail by now if I hadn't-"

"He's in Venezuela, Will!" She stands up and storms towards the bathroom. "It's not exactly going all that well for him."

Slamming the door, she sits down on the toilet seat and sighs, her head coming to rest in her hands as she takes a few deep, calming breaths. It's one in the morning, they're both tired and somewhere deep down she knows she's being unfair. She's proud of him, proud of his automatic reaction to protect Neal without hesitation, but she also wonders if he's clutching at straws with his certainty that he's too much of a known commodity to jail, and she's scared of what will happen if he's wrong. Taking one more breath, she stands up and walks back into the bedroom, stopping just inside the doorway when she sees him standing and staring at the clothes she hung up when they arrived.

"It isn't that I don't think you're doing the right thing, or that I'm not proud of you." She walks towards him, looking up at him, waiting for him to turn to her. "I am, I'm just..."

"I know." He rests his hands gently on her shoulders and smiles the soft smile that makes his eyes twinkle and always makes her melt, damn him. "It's late, it's been a long day, for now can I just say it'll be alright and have that be enough?"

"For now." She smiles back at him, closing her eyes for just a second. "But only because it's late."

"That's your dress for the dinner?" He steps closer to the hanger and runs a hand down the black lace of the gown.

"Yep." She smiles at him, rolling her head from side to side to try and ease the tension in her neck. "You like it?"

"It's a dress on a hanger," he says, reaching for her, turning her around and resting his hands on her shoulders, massaging her neck gently with his thumbs. "I'd really need to see you in it to know if I like it."

"Hold your horses, Billy boy, you'll see it tomorrow." She pauses, leaning back slightly as his thumbs keep moving and she feels the tightness in her neck start to ease.

"Mackenzie..." He sighs her name and even though she can't see him, she knows he's pouting.

"Nope." She lets out a moan as his thumbs hit a particularly knotted spot. "I could be persuaded to show you the underwear that's going under it...you know, maybe..."

"What do I need to do to make that happen?" He gives one final stroke of his thumbs across her skin before dropping his hands and moving to stand in front of her.

"You need to promise that when you remove said underwear." She pauses, biting her lip just slightly as she looks at him. "Assuming you might be interested in removing it, of course-"

"I'm interested." He stops her, his voice dropping suddenly lower as his gaze flicks from her mouth back up to her eyes. "Keep talking."

"Alright then... _when_ you remove this underwear of mine, it needs to be done gently. Don't get me wrong, I'm more than okay if you want to remove it with your teeth but it cost..." She stops, smirking at him. "Actually, the exact amount doesn't matter, just...don't fucking rip it, Will, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," he says quickly, smiling as she runs her hands slowly down his chest, his smile dimming just a touch when she steps away.

"Find something to drink in there." She gestures to the fridge, hoping it's as well stocked as she would expect from a hotel of this standing. "I'll be two minutes."

Maybe closer to three, but when she comes back into the bedroom she has a strong suspicion he had the wine poured about thirty seconds after she headed into the bathroom. She knows it's cruel to be amused by the look on his face when he sees she's wearing a robe, but when she walks towards him and the soft blue satin parts just enough to give him a glimpse of her legs, a smile creeps onto his lips and she feels vindicated.

"That bathroom has a bathtub so big that I'm going to have to demand you get in there with me before we leave here," she says, smirking at him. "Would it be terribly unhygienic to eat breakfast in there, do you think?"

"Probably." He nods and looks up at her as she stands in front of the chair he's sitting in and steps between his legs. "I'm willing to risk it."

"Glad to hear it." She watches him as he reaches for her and pulls the robe gently open, and he watches her as she slides it down off her shoulders.

"Holy shit." His words are barely more than an appreciative breath as his hands move to her hips and his fingers slide under her panties. "If these were a thousand fucking dollars...they were worth every damn dime."

"They weren't a thousand dollars." She giggles and steps back, turning around and arching her back slightly, biting her lip as she hears his sharp intake of breath as he sees the tiny bow in the centre of the lace. "I'd still like them removed in one piece though."

"No problem." His hands hold her hips in place and she realises why when she feels his tongue on her lower back and squirms against him.

"Take them off, Will..." she murmurs, pushing herself back, sighing as his teeth scrape lightly across her butt cheek. "I want them to be at least close to clean when I put them on for tomorrow night."

She feels his lips move from her skin and his fingers start to gently untie the bow and to push the panties down her legs, his hands moving back to her hips as she steps out of them before bending over to pick them up and put them carefully on the table. She knows the view she's giving him, the slight growl she hears low in his throat merely confirming it. Feeling her irritation gradually melting away, she unclasps her bra and puts it down on the table with her panties. Turning slowly to face him again, she smiles and reaches for his hands, sliding her fingers through his as she leans forward to kiss him. His fingers squeeze hers as she deepens the kiss, and she grins against his lips, knowing he's itching to touch her. He called the shots at main justice, she's calling them now and he'll get to touch her when she decides he can.

Pulling back she looks at him, her gaze settling on his eyes, drifting down to his lips, moving down his chest coming to rest finally at his belt. She licks her lips slowly and strokes her fingers against his before releasing his hands and taking a small step backwards, smirking when he tries to reach for her.

"Take your pants off," she says, flicking her eyes back to focus on his, her tongue darting out to run slowly across her top lip as she watches him take a deep breath.

He stands up and kicks off his shoes, throwing his socks after them before loosening his belt, unzipping his jeans and removing them, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. Clad only in his t- shirt and shorts, he reaches out and slides his hand slowly down the side of her cheek, inciting a long, ragged sigh that she has no hope of containing. She moves her hands to his t-shirt and tugs on it just enough for him to get the message, smiling as he pulls it over his head and drops it onto the floor. Pointing at the chair, she waits until he sits back down and then climbs slowly into his lap, making the most of the big chair and settling her thighs on his, her feet pushed firmly into the cushions.

"This is a five star hotel, Mackenzie," he says, his breath warm on her cheek.

"I know that," she says, running her hands slowly across his shoulders. "I'll have you know, my fiancé earns a ton of money, he can afford it."

"I'm glad you have such high standards." His hands move up her back, his fingers tickling her neck before sliding into her hair. "Would those high standards extend as far as that huge bed right there?"

"Tomorrow." She bites her lip and smiles at him. 

"Tomorrow?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah." She nods and moves forward slightly, grinning when his hands tighten in her hair. "Tonight I'm going to have you in this chair. Okay?"

"Totally okay," he says quickly, nodding back at her. "Your wish is my command."

"Smart guy...not just a pretty face for the TV." She rests her hand on his arm, pulling his hand from her hair and placing it firmly on her breast, smirking at his wide eyes.

He recovers quickly and his hand starts to move, his palm stroking across one breast, his mouth dipping to the other, capturing her nipple, his tongue feeling hot against her skin. Moaning, she rocks gently against him and feels him hard under her. She scrapes her nails down his arm and her fingers move into his hair, pulling his head up so she can kiss him, hard and fast, her tongue pushing into his mouth.

"I should..." She pulls back just a fraction, pausing to kiss him one more time. "Buy thousand dollar underwear more often."

"You should let me peel it off and then climb into my lap like you fucking mean it more often." He rolls her nipple between his thumb and finger and she runs her tongue across his bottom lip, letting out a soft moan.

"Mmm...I can do that." Her fingers still in his hair, she tightens her grasp and rocks her hips again, slowly this time, her breath catching as his hard length pushes against her as her wetness seeps through his shorts.

"Honey..." He slips his thumb into her mouth and she sucks on it for a few seconds, watching his eyes darken as she does. When he slides it out of her mouth and moves it across her hard nipple, she moans again and he dips his head to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses across her skin.

"Will..." Pausing briefly as his lips hit a particularly sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, she takes a shuddering breath and pulls her head back so she can look at him. "You really can't be where I need you to be while you still have your shorts on."

"And where would that be?" He blinks slowly and his hand drops from her nipple to her abdomen, his fingers still as his thumb moves gently in small strokes.

"In me," she says, firmly, feeling his thumb press a little harder in response to her words. "I want you out of your shorts and inside me. Clear?"

"As a bell." He nods and his eyes follow her movement as she stands up and waits for him to peel off his shorts, biting her lip and glancing down as they hit the floor.

She feels her stomach muscles clench when he reaches forward and pulls her back towards him, his fingers slipping between her legs and softly inside her. Her hands grip his shoulders, holding on tight as he starts to work his fingers faster, watching her face as she feels the flush spread across her cheeks. He knows what he's doing, he always has, so she keeps her eyes on his and waits...when he hits just the right speed and hooks his fingers at just the right angle, she comes hard, moaning his name and digging her nails into his shoulders.

"God, you're good at that." She leans forward and kisses him, breathing heavily into his mouth, smiling as she pulls back.

Her gaze drops and she isn't at all surprised to see how hard he is, a soft groan falling from his lips when she reaches a hand down to stroke him, her eyes meeting his again. Climbing back onto the chair and into his lap, she slides herself slowly down onto him, stopping to adjust before taking in his full length, closing her eyes and sighing.

"If we ruin this chair..." Her eyes open as she starts to move. "You can just...buy them a new one, right?"

"I'll buy them..." He pauses, running a hand across her stomach before settling it on her hip. "Whatever the hell they want."

"Told you, my fiancé has a _ton_ of...money," she says, sighing the words out as she starts to ride him harder. "Make me come again, Billy."

His hand slides down her hip, across her stomach and down to her thigh, the faint touch in sharp contrast to the way he's thrusting up harder, deeper inside her, his breath coming faster as her moans grow louder. He moves his thumb in between them and he watches her as he starts to touch her, his fingers moving gently against her. She can't take her eyes from his and she feels herself about to come again, feels a slow throbbing building up, starting in her thighs and moving up into her stomach as he gives one more stroke of his thumb and sends her into free fall.

"Good?" he asks, bringing his hands to settle on her hips, holding her in place as he pushes deeper into her.

"You want..." She pauses as he slows down and blinks hard, his hands gripping tightly onto her. "A review right now?"

"Nah." He groans and she throws her head back, tossing her hair back over her shoulder and sighing as he predictably shifts to kiss the bare skin of her neck she's just offered up to him.

Grabbing her hips, he holds her still as he comes, briefly squeezing his eyes shut before fixing them on her as she runs a hand slowly down his arm, smiling lazily at him, her earlier anger forgotten for now.

*

As she was hoping, she gets breakfast in the huge bathtub, waking up to the sound of Will on the phone ordering breakfast and the running of the water in the bathroom, rolling over just in time to tell him she wants toast and honey. She somehow manages not to drop her toast under the bubbles when Will’s foot runs up her leg, his toes tickling her thigh and making her giggle. Scooting forward, she holds out her hand and watches him as he licks the sticky honey from her fingers, licking each one slowly, with a determined look in his eyes that suggests a much more serious task. Pushing his knees apart, she slides in between them and smiles as his arms go around her, pulling her closer to him. When he kisses her, the bitter taste of the coffee mingles with the sweetness of the honey and she smiles against his lips.

“What do you want to do today?” he asks as he pulls back, running a damp finger down the side of her face and grinning when she frowns at him.

“I want to go for a walk and see the cherry blossom,” she says, her smile fading slightly as she continues. “And forget that Neal is on the run and that I might be about to start married life with my husband in prison.”

“Honey…” He sighs and shakes his head.

“So…” She continues, grabbing a handful of bubbles and pressing them carefully against his face, smiling as his brows knot together. “We're going to go for a walk and then you’re going to buy me lunch.”

“I am?” He smirks as she adds yet more bubbles to his face. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Seeing what you’d look like with a beard, in case you come out of prison with one,” she says, stopping and giving him an appraising look. “No, I don’t like it.”

“You don't?” he asks, scooping some of the bubbles from his cheek to the end of her nose, grinning as she laughs. "No beard then?"

“Nope, no beard.” She wipes his face clean and kisses him softly, running her thumbs tenderly across his lips, trying not to think about how much she’ll miss him if he does end up in prison. “I like your face as it is.”

“I like your face as it is too,” he says, reaching for her hand under the water and squeezing her fingers.

“Good, because I’m not sure my beard growing skills are up to much.” She smiles and lifts their joined hands up and turns them over, noticing how the water is starting to wrinkle their skin. “Look, we’re turning pruney.”

“Pruney?” He raises an eyebrow and smiles back at her. “Is that an actual word?”

“Of course. Pruney: wrinkled like the skin of a prune.” She nods. “We should get out though, get dressed.”

He's lying on the bed watching her get ready as he always does (she's long given up on asking why he's looking at her and just accepts it's what he likes to do), his long legs stretched out, his pale blue shirt somehow staying wrinkle free.

"While you're lying there _gazing_ at me, make sure we're not missing anything major, would you?" She gestures towards their phones, both sitting on the table beside the bed.

"Pretty sure 'no work talk today' was your rule," he says, sitting up and reaching for his Blackberry.

"It was, and the second we walk out of this room, that rule is in place." She raises her eyebrows at him before turning back to the mirror to finish tying her hair back. "So you have about two minutes to check the world isn't about to implode."

"Fine." He starts to scroll through his phone, stopping briefly every few seconds before moving on again. "Alright...Mexico is holding its interest rate at 4%, Election Day in Iceland, prison guards in Alberta are out on strike-"

"Interesting." She cuts in, turning to face him, smirking at him. “Maybe we could petition for them to send you to a Canadian prison, and without the guards you could make a run for it?"

"Shouldn't you be petitioning for them to not send me to prison at all?" His smirk matches hers and she sighs.

"You know what I mean." She sighs and moves to the bed, offering her hand and pulling him up to stand. "Let's go."

*

"I'd forgotten how pretty it was in the spring," she says, sitting down on the bench and sliding her hand onto his thigh, her fingers gently squeezing his as she leans her head against his shoulder.

"We should come back earlier next year, aim to be here for peak bloom," he says, and it makes her smile.

She remembers being surprised by his knowledge of the cherry blossom when they first met, thinking he was he just trying to impress her, the way he did by taking her to the best restaurants, shopping, telling her about his time at the White House. It had taken her so long to get used to being with someone who looked at her the way he did, who held doors for her, and who would text her to say goodnight on the evenings they weren't together. When she first came to New York she worried she'd broken him of the very things that had made her fall in love with him, fearing that the angry, bitter man he had become was completely her fault, and was totally irreversible. Since they've been back together, the old Will has returned, and God, she loves him.

"Do you miss it?" He moves his hand to cover hers, breaking into her thoughts.

"DC?" She shifts closer, her thigh pressed tightly against his as she feels him nod. "No, not really. I moved around so much when I was younger...I don't really miss places, I just miss people."

"Your parents?" he asks.

"And my sisters, my brother sometimes, you know." She pauses, watching a small boy pass by, holding tightly onto his father's hand, talking ten to the dozen as he walks on. "I missed DC at first. When I first embedded, I mean. Not so much the place itself, more what I had here. I missed hot showers, and nice restaurants, I missed the life we had together, and I missed your bed. Mostly I just missed you, Billy."

"I missed you too," he says quietly. "Every fucking day."

"Yeah, so much that you didn't even bother to read my emails." She nudges his shoulder to show she isn't serious, not really. She knows how much she hurt him, she doesn't blame him for not wanting to be reminded of her existence when he was trying his best to forget her.

"I did read them," he says. "I read them all, Mackenzie."

"You, what?" She lifts her head from his shoulder and looks at him, taking in his worried expression and the sudden desperate grip his hand has on hers. "But you never...when I came back, you said...I asked if you read them and you said no, you said-"

"I know what I said, I know, I just..." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I read the emails and the letters, I listened to the voicemails, all of it."

She doesn't know what to say. For years she has assumed he was telling the truth when he told her he hadn't read her emails, only to find out now that he had, that he'd read them, all of them, yet not one of them had pushed him into replying.

"I emailed you after I was stabbed, when I was still in hospital," she says, trying to keep her voice level but feeling suddenly vulnerable which she knows is ridiculous because he loves her, she knows that as surely as she knows her own name. "I told you that when I...when I thought I was going to die, all I could think was that it was some kind of divine retribution, and that when I was lying there bleeding, all I wanted was for you to forgive me. And you...you read that?"

"Yeah." He nods, his voice quiet, his eyes unable to meet hers.

"But you didn't reply." It isn't a question because she knows he didn't, and it isn't an accusation because he didn't do anything wrong, he wasn't under any obligation to reply simply because she almost died. Still, it hurts, quite unexpectedly, and she wonders how, after all the talking they've done since November, this never came up.

"No," he says, taking a deep breath and looking back at her, his hand once again squeezing hers. "I wanted to, I almost did, I even wrote something, but-"

"But then you remembered you fucking hated me, so you deleted it." She smiles sadly at him. "It's alright, I get it, I just...it really doesn't matter now, but...do you remember what you wrote?"

"I..." He pauses, looking down as she turns her hand up to thread her fingers through his, before shifting his gaze back to her face. "Hang on."

"What..." Stopping as she sees his free hand sliding into his pocket, she waits as he scrolls through his phone before handing it to her. "This is...?

"I never sent it," he says, his voice low, watching her as she looks at the phone in disbelief. "But I didn't delete it."

_'Mackenzie, I heard about what happened, I did some digging and there's a pretty fucking good whitewashing job going on here about how serious it was. Guessing that's your doing, guessing too it's because you want right back out in the field. Just...for fuck's sake, rest up enough first, I know you, you'll be reporting from the front line with your damn stitches still in. Maybe you could come home, take a studio job again for a while, heal up properly, you know, and then go back out if that's what you want._

_I've seen some of your reports, and hell, maybe the wrong one of us was in front of the camera this whole time. You're good, Mac, really good, but there are safer places for a field reporter, you know. Yeah, yeah, I know, you're reporting what people need to know, I get that, I can fucking see you rolling your eyes now at my over-protective bullshit. I've read your email over and over and still every damn time I read that you thought you were going to die, I feel fucking sick to my stomach. Even worse is that you seem to think it's a suitable punishment? Holy shit, Mac, no._

_I'm sorry it came to this. If you do head home and you want to talk, if you still...I don't know what I'm trying to say, but yeah, I love you. Keep safe, please.'_

"All this time." She can't seem to pull her eyes from the phone, aware that the words are blurring slightly as she tries to somehow process what she just read. "November twenty fourth, 2009, and you never sent it. I would have come home, Will, if you'd only...if you had just hit send."

"I know." He falls silent and she looks up at him, trying to smile at him. "I'm a fucking idiot."

"Of course I was on so much morphine I probably would have assumed I was hallucinating it anyway." She aims for levity but the tears she feels threatening to spill over betray her efforts.

"If I'd just swallowed my stupid fucking pride and answered you _before_ you went to the Middle East." He stops, gently cupping her face. "You wouldn't have been stabbed at all, and maybe we'd have sorted our shit out sooner, and-"

"Hey." She stops him, not wanting to go down this road, to drag everything up again when they've done so much talking already. "It's too late for that now. Yes, if you'd answered any of my messages then I probably wouldn't have gone, I wouldn't have been stabbed, and I'd probably still have a fighting chance of being able to have a baby...but I did go, I was stabbed and so here I am with my tiny five percent chance of being able to get pregnant. This is the way things are, Will, and there isn't a thing we can do about it. It's okay, we're okay."

She sees the I'm sorry begin to form on his lips so she leans in and kisses him in a bid to stop it, to let him know it's fine, that what's done is done and they have each other which is enough, more than enough. Standing up, she takes his hand, pulling him to his feet, not surprised when he slides his arms around her and pulls her against him, running his hands down her back as he kisses the top of her head.

"I love you," he murmurs into her hair and she smiles against his chest, saying nothing for a moment, just letting him hold on to her.

"I seem to recall you promising me lunch," she says, curling her fingers softly into his shirt.

"Funny, I feel like I was just told I'd be buying you lunch." She hears the smile in his voice and she sighs as she pulls back and looks up at him.

"Same thing." She takes his hand again and as they start to walk along the path she looks up at the blossom, then at him, and she smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

"We really have to do this, don't we?" he asks, voice raised so she can hear him from the bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom in just her underwear and her heels, her hair held up with what feels like a thousand pins, she walks over to where her dress is hanging up, feeling his eyes on her, adding a little extra swing to her hips for his benefit. Catching his eye in the mirror, she raises an eyebrow before turning to him with a smirk.

"Yes, we do." Reaching up, she takes hold of the bow tie draped loosely around his neck and starts to tie it, squirming when his hands shift to her waist but managing to carry on. "We have to play nice, just for one night. I know you can do it, Billy, you're very charming."

"Pretty sure you're here to be the charming one." He glances down before grinning at her. "You're doing a good job so far, that underwear is charming the shit out of me."

"Wait until you see the dress," she says, leaning up and kissing him quickly before pulling away. "You're going to have to help to zip me, I think."

She takes the dress off the hanger and unzips it, stepping carefully into it and turning around for him to help zip her up, which he does in silence before his lips move to the back of her neck and his tongue slides slowly across her skin.

"What if..." He pauses and his hands move around her waist to pull her back against him. "Charlie handled Pruit and we just stayed here? We could order dinner, drink champagne and I could unzip this dress and drag that underwear off with my fucking teeth."

"Nice try." Covering his hands with hers, she sighs softly. "But no. Pruit wants to meet you, you're his new Ken doll, he wants to see what he got with his money."

"I'm on TV five nights a week," he says as his lips move to the side of her neck, kissing her softly. "He could just watch the show."

"It's not exactly going to be a hard night for you." She lifts his hands from her stomach and turns to face him. "Fending off hoards of beautiful women all wanting to cozy up to you and have photos taken. Would have been a dream come true for you a couple of years ago."

"Yeah, well, I was an idiot a couple of years ago." He shrugs and glances down, grinning as he looks back up at her. She knows he's just realised what this dress does for her chest and she grins back at him.

"It's true, you were," she says, taking his hand again and lacing her fingers through his. "But you're in recovery now, and that's what matters."

"I feel like I should take offence at that but I can't quite bring myself to give a shit when you're doing this..." He gestures at her, grinning again. "This dress voodoo, or whatever you call it."

"Dress voodoo?" She quirks an eyebrow and steps back slightly to give him a full view. "Is that your way of saying 'honey, I like your dress'?"

"Yeah, I do." He nods enthusiastically. "Holy shit, Mackenzie, I really do."

"Good," she says, running a finger down the front of his shirt. "Maybe thinking about taking it off me later will get you through the evening."

"Well, we do have this hotel room for another night," he says, swiping his hand across her collarbone. "We really should make full use of it."

"And we will." Squeezing his fingers, she lets go of his hands and steps away. "But for now, we really do need to get moving."

"Okay," he murmurs, although stepping closer to her again doesn't exactly suggest he's fully intending to comply, and when his hands cup her face, his intentions become quite clear.

His lips are on hers, his thumbs running across her cheekbones, before she has time to raise even a token protest, and when he pushes her back against the wall, she sighs against him and for the briefest of seconds she thinks he's right, the Correspondents Dinner can go fuck itself. She tries to regain her sensibilities and almost manages it, failing only when he starts to nibble on her bottom lip, sliding her hand under his jacket when what she intends to do is push him back and remind him they really do need to leave...

"Will, we need to go..." She makes another attempt, her words vibrating gently against his mouth, any further protest dying when his tongue slides against hers and one hand moves to the back of her neck, his fingers slipping into her hair.

Vaguely aware she's in real danger of the time she spent doing her hair being rendered useless, she rests her hand on his chest and pushes more firmly this time, moaning when his tongue probes deeper and his hand settles on her waist.

"We need..." She takes his hand and pulls her lips reluctantly from his. "To go."

"I know." He sighs, following it almost instantly with a proud grin. "Valiant effort though, right?"

"Stellar." She smiles at him and leans in to give him one more kiss before pulling back and smoothing her hands down his jacket and stepping back towards the mirror. "Jesus, my hair is screwed."

"It looks fine," he says and she raises an eyebrow at him, part amused, part annoyed by how oblivious he is. "You can just, like, stick it back up again, right?"

"Did you completely fail to notice how long I was in the bathroom doing this the first time?" she asks, realising as she speaks that yes, of course he failed to notice because he was busy in here brooding about not wanting to go tonight. "Fuck it, I'll just have to do what I can with it."

Studying it in the mirror, it's clear that the top has escaped relatively unscathed while the back has mostly given up the fight and is tumbling down her neck. Removing the pins from the back, she lets the entire bottom half down and moves the pins higher, keeping the top secure and hoping she can convince anyone who cares that the slightly tousled look was exactly what she was aiming for.

"I don't know what you're smirking at." She looks at him in the mirror, standing behind her, watching her frustration with clear amusement. "This is all your doing."

"Honey, in that dress..." His eyes flick down to her cleavage which, she knows, is on impressive display tonight. "Nobody is going to give two shits about your hair."

"Is that so?" She knows very well how much he is appreciating her dress and she has to bite back a grin.

"For sure." He grins and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "I was _so_ wrong about us being too late for peak bloom."

She puts her hands on her hips and pulls her shoulders back, giving him even more of a view than he had already, her grin breaking free as his eyes widen. As she leans forward to pick up her bag, she hears his breath catch and she looks up at him, biting her lip. He watches her as she puts on her lipstick and makes one final attempt to fix her hair, saying all he needs to say with just the look in his eyes. As she takes his hand and starts to pull him towards the door, she thinks it could be a long evening.

*

She stays quiet on the way back to the hotel, her brain buzzing with everything that has happened; the source showing up, Pruit proving himself to be almost exactly what they expected him to be, and then the subpoena. They can no longer try to brush it off, convince themselves it isn't serious or that it won't lead anywhere, because now it has, it has led Will to a grand jury, and the threat of prison looks more real than ever. His hand slides into hers but her gaze stays fixed firmly on the window even though nothing they drive past registers beyond a faint blur. The first thing they agreed on when they got engaged was honesty, complete honesty, no secrets, and she hates that she's broken that promise. She tried earlier to tell him the source had approached her, but the words wouldn't come out, and she wants to tell him now, but they're in deep enough with his involvement, and with Neal hiding out in South America, without her throwing herself into the mix too and she just can't bring herself to say it. She knows him too well, knows he would be even more likely to throw himself on his sword if he knew she had the same information as him, as Neal, and she can't be responsible for making things even worse. So she squeezes his hand and turns to him, forcing a faint smile onto her face.

"Rebecca will be all over this," he says, looking at her warily. "It'll be okay."

"I'm not an idiot, Will, give me some credit." She sighs and looks down at their joined hands, her gaze settling on the comforting motion of his thumb moving slowly across her skin. "Rebecca's good but she can only do so much and there's a real chance now that this could end badly, for you _and_ for Neal. Can't things just go smoothly for five fucking minutes?!"

"Doesn't look like it, no," he says, quietly and with a calm that she feels is completely inappropriate for the situation they're faced with.

"How can you be so calm about this?" She looks up at him, feels her eyebrows knotting together as panic starts to rise up within her. "Or is this you playing it cool for me while you're flipping out on the inside?"

"All I'm saying is that we have no idea what's going to happen." He squeezes her hand tighter and gives her a small, hopeful smile. "And at midnight on a Saturday there really isn't a fucking thing we can do-"

"Well, excuse me for giving a shit about whether you go to prison or not." She pulls her hand from his and folds her arms in front of her, sighing loudly as the car comes to a stop.

"Mac..." He starts to speak but she opens the door and climbs out, halfway to the hotel doors before he catches up with her, grabbing her hand until she stops and turns to him. "Please."

"Please what?" She can't seem to talk herself down, she's angry and she really doesn't know who with. "What do you want me to say, Will? It's fine, I'm perfectly happy for you to go to prison, I won't miss you at all, it's really not a problem? Because I'm not happy, I _will_ miss you and it's a massive fucking problem!"

When he takes the key card out of her hand because she can't seem to open the door to their room, she realises how strung out she is. She kicks off her shoes, throws her bag on the bed and starts to pull the pins from her hair, hurling them one by one onto the dresser, aware of him standing behind her but figuring that taking her rage out on inanimate objects is better than on Will.

"Could you unzip me, please?" she asks, without turning to look at him, letting out a long breath in an attempt to calm herself down.

"No," he says, his voice low and so controlled that she wants to scream.

"Fine." She reaches around and starts to try to reach for the zip to get herself out of the dress, knowing it's impossible and that she's just going to end up even more furious than she is already.

"Mackenzie, stop." He moves to stand in front of her and his eyes are soft, his tone gentle.

"I want this dress off." She hisses at him through her teeth, still angry but with a lump in her throat meaning she doesn't know whether to yell or cry. "And if you won't fucking help me-"

" _Stop_." He rests one hand on her shoulder and the other lifts her chin, tenderly but forcing her to look at him.

"I just..." She sighs and looks at him, taking a deep, calming breath. "I don't know how this got from someone asking for Neal's encryption key to you having to appear in front of a grand jury, that's all."

"Okay." His fingers tickle the underside of her chin and he gives her a soft smile. "I'm not going to say it'll be fine, because I feel like you might just kill me, but could we maybe accept that we need to wait until we talk to Rebecca and go from there? That there's no point in freaking out until we know what we're really up against?"

"If I agree to that, will you please unzip me?" She blinks and manages a smile as he reaches for her and pulls the remaining pins from her hair, running his fingers through it as it falls loose to her shoulders.

"Turn around." His voice is low as he leans down, his mouth pressed to her ear. "I'm going to take your mind off of all this shit."

Turning around, she expects to feel his hands move to unzip her, but instead he pushes her dress up and slides his hands up her thighs, his fingertips rough against her skin, his breath hot on the back of her neck. Grabbing her panties, he drags them down her legs and she braces herself against the wall, gasping as his fingers move to the inside of her thighs, stroking gently as she parts her legs instinctively. When he stops suddenly, she lets out a disappointed moan before she realises he's steering her towards the bed, a hungry glint in his eyes. He slowly unzips her dress and his fingers run down her back, pushing the fabric down until it falls in a pool to the floor and she steps out of it.

Sitting down on the end of the bed, she looks up at him as he throws his jacket off and loosens the bow tie around his neck, biting her lip when he reaches for her, his hands moving up her thighs as she leans back on her elbows and closes her eyes.

"Stop thinking," he says as his lips come to rest on her thigh, leaving a trail of small, wet kisses that make her sigh. "Just for now, stop thinking and let me do my work here."

"Your work?" She opens her legs a little wider and opens her eyes just as he looks up at her, a determined expression on his face. "Please tell me we're not live on air right now...because I _really_ don't think ACN is that kind of channel."

"Feel free to pretend you're in my ear..." His head dips back between her thighs and she closes her eyes again, dropping back flat onto the bed. "You know, if that'll do it for you."

His mouth opens and he starts to suck lightly on her inner thigh while his fingers run slowly down the outside. She tries to push everything from her mind and concentrate only on him, the feel of his lips on her skin, his breath against her, his tongue sliding across her thigh, but she just can't relax. She feels like the last few hours are crashing in on her all she can think is that it shouldn't be this difficult to breathe and that there shouldn't be a tightness in her chest that she can't shift, and she can't believe she's about to ask him to stop. Or she _would_ if she could only push the words out past the lump in her throat, if she could manage to say his name, if "Billy, I need a minute" would just move from her brain to her tongue. Instead she sits up, taking a deep breath as she does, before slowly pushing herself back on her elbows, moving up the bed, biting her lip hard when she sees confusion spreading slowly across his face, quickly followed by concern.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, averting her eyes as he crawls somewhat clumsily up the bed towards her.

"Hon?" He looks so worried that she feels terrible for not being able to simply say that she doesn't think even he can manage to take her mind off things tonight but that, dear God, she loves him for trying. "Talk to me..."

"You're still in your tux," she says, knowing it isn't what he expected to hear but also aware that he knows her well enough to give her time to get to what she actually wants to say, _needs_ to say. "And I'm wearing nothing but this bra."

"And a fucking good bra it is too." His voice is low and he gives her a gentle smile before standing up and taking off his pants, followed by his tie and shirt, dropping them all on the floor. Climbing back onto the bed in just his shorts, he pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her as she settles against his chest. "I'm missing a bra, but we're pretty much even now."

She lets out a small, relieved laugh and curls her fingers into his side, tucking her head under his chin, starting to feel calmer as his hand runs down her arm, softly, soothingly.

"You know things are bad when your tongue can't distract me," she murmurs against his chest, smiling as she feels him drop a kiss to the top of her head. She can still feel concern running through him as his hand keeps moving, and if she were to look up she knows there would be a frown fixed firmly on his face. "I'm fine, Will."

His hand moves and he tangles his fingers in hers. “You’re cold.”

“A bit.” She presses herself more tightly against him to try to absorb his warmth, groaning when he sits up and lets go of her.

“Take your bra off,” he says as he stands up, smiling at her confusion.

“I don’t see how that’s going to make me _less_ cold,” she mumbles, but removes it anyway and hurls it to the end of the bed, looking up at him. “You just want to look at my boobs.”

“I’ve been looking at them all night.” He pulls a dark blue t-shirt from the suitcase on the floor and hands it to her. “Surreptitiously, obviously, given that we were in company.”

“Noted.” She pulls the t-shirt over her head and sighs. “God, I really need to wash this make-up off and brush my teeth.”

Making no effort to move, she considers for the tiniest of seconds not bothering but knows she’ll regret it, so she reluctantly heaves herself up from the bed and heads for the bathroom. When he wraps his arms around her from behind and looks at her in the mirror, she realises she’s going to be doing this with him firmly attached to her, which is fine. It’s been a strange couple of days, and she is aware she just crossed the line from angry to near panic attack in a relatively short space of time, so if he needs to hold onto her for a little while, she’s okay with that.

“You know, you’re going to have to let go of me so I can pee.” She smiles at him in the mirror and he slides his arms from around her, giving her an exaggerated pout as he reaches for his toothbrush.

She takes him by the hand, stopping when they reach the bedroom to lean up and kiss him, reaching up to touch his face, swiping her thumb softly across his bottom lip. His frown is less pronounced now, but it's still there, and she wishes she could have just relaxed and let him release her tension in the way he usually can. All she wants now is for him to get into bed so she can wrap herself around him, so she tugs lightly on his hand and smiles as he seems to read her signal, pulls back the sheet and climbs into bed.

When they were first together and she started to realise how much she loved sleeping on him, he used to laughingly say she was like an octopus, all long arms and legs, somehow managing to anchor herself to him and staying that way all night. She never told him it was because he was the only person who had welcomed it, the first man who had ever opened his arms and waited for her to crawl into them rather than turning his back and exerting his need for space. Using him as a human mattress is a habit she has fallen very quickly back into and he welcomes it like he always did.

As soon as he's in bed, she slides under the sheet beside him and wastes no time in draping herself across his chest, pushing her feet down between his calves. He brings his arms around her and she sighs, feeling the tension of earlier starting to abate and her jumbled thoughts clearing slightly. Maybe she is overreacting, perhaps he's right and it won't ever come to the worst case scenario she can't seem to stop thinking about, and as frustrating as it is to admit, she knows he's right about there not being a damn thing they can do about it now, in the early hours of a Sunday morning.

"Tired?" His voice, although low, startles her slightly and he moves his hand gently across the back of her neck.

"Mmm," she says, her fingers running up his side, always surprised at how warm his skin is, even when she's freezing.

"Still mad at me?" he asks, a hint of concern running through the casual tone he aims for. "I'm not mad at you." She pauses as his hand slides under her t-shirt and rests on her back, his touch warm and comforting. "I'm not mad at anyone, I'm just...well, I don't like not being able to do anything to fix this."

"And that's why we have the lawyers," he says. "It's why ACN pays Rebecca about a thousand dollars a minute, so we don't have to fix shit like this."

"I know." She nods and her lips open just enough to leave a lazy kiss against his neck. "If we paid her two thousand a minute, do you think she could make it all go away?"

“You want to raise that with Charlie, or shall I?” His fingers circle her shoulder blade as he talks, and she smiles.

“I think this is the point where I’d usually pretend to be asleep,” she says, shifting to crane her neck slightly awkwardly to look at him.

“Well, what I was doing earlier, I was doing with the express intention of wearing you out.” He pushes her hair tenderly out of her face, his eyes looking steely blue in the dim lamplight as he pulls back.

“Really?” She quirks an eyebrow, feeling a wave of guilt again about her near meltdown earlier. “I thought you just liked being between my thighs.”

“Yeah, that too.” He leans down and kisses her, his hands roaming higher up her back.

“You know it wasn’t you before, right?” She closes her eyes, snuggling yet closer to him, as though the closeness will push her words home harder. “I just freaked out for a minute, and I needed to breathe, and when you’re doing what you do down there…well, you know what you do to me, Billy, breathing doesn’t end up high on my list of priorities when your tongue is between my legs.”

“You’re okay now?” he asks, his arms moving to hold her tighter against him.

“I am,” she answers, sighing softly against him. “Our flight tomorrow is at noon, so we’re going to get some sleep, with you playing the role of human mattress and me playing human blanket. Then tomorrow morning, you’re going to bang the sweet holy heck out of me.”

"Jesus, Mackenzie, I never thought such an unlikely phrase could be so fucking sexy." He drops a kiss to the top of her head.

"Get some sleep," she murmurs sleepily. "You'll need it."

*

The first thing she becomes aware of when she wakes up is that she's still on top of Will, draped around him, one leg pushed between his, the other bent at the knee and resting on his thigh. The second thing that hits her is pain, a cramp starting beneath her toes and running up the bottom of her foot. Instinctively, she tries to uncurl her toes, unable to bite back a loud moan when the pain merely intensifies and her foot clenches tighter. She rolls off Will and onto her back beside him on the bed, catching sight of the clock as she does, wincing at the early hour and hoping she can shake this off before she wakes him.

"What's wrong?" His worried voice cuts through her discomfort and she tries to stretch out her leg but succeeds only in somehow spreading the cramp up into her calf.

"Fuck, cramp..." She sits up and reaches for her foot but he gets there first, moving onto his knees and down the bed.

He takes hold of her foot and rests it on his thigh, running his fingers across the arch, pausing when she whimpers. Moving his hands to her calf, he starts to massage the muscle there, just hard enough that she has to grip the sheet underneath her to stop herself from crying out.

"I'm sorry," he says, looking up at her with a frown on his face. "Do you want me to stop?" 

"No." She shakes her head. "Go back to my foot though, would you? It's killing me."

He spends the next few minutes working the pain out of her, pressing hard with his thumbs into the underside of her foot, rubbing her toes under his fingers. The ache subsides and she sighs, pushing her head back into the pillow and closing her eyes.

"Better?" His voice is low and smooth and she remembers how early it still is, wonders if he wants to go back to sleep but hoping not.

"Thanks," she says quietly. "Sorry, I tried not to wake you, I know it's still early."

"Well..." He lifts her leg off the bed and runs a hand slowly up her calf, tickling the back of her knee, stopping to look at her as she opens her eyes to meet his gaze in the half light. "I'm awake now..."

"You know what you were about to do to me last night when I freaked out?" she asks, smiling at him.

"I do remember that." He dips his head and kisses her knee, moving up her thigh, his tongue leaving warm trails up her skin.

"Do it again." She lets out a long breath as he moves his lips higher. "I promise it'll end better this time."

"Shouldn't I be making that promise?" He holds onto her thighs, his thumbs stroking gently as she closes her eyes again.

"Don't let me stop you." She shifts her hips slightly, even though she knows he's well aware of what she needs from him, but he follows her lead and his tongue moves higher between her legs.

She can never get enough of this, he's so good at it, so incredibly good, and she recalls their first time together, when he knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed, looked up at her, his eyes dark, lips wet and almost made her come from the intensity of his gaze alone. She told him once how surprised she was by how much he seemed to enjoy nothing more than putting his lips on her, and she remembers his response like it was yesterday. He looked at her with a hint of a frown, shrugging as he said, "I love you, and you taste like heaven, Mackenzie. Why the fuck wouldn't I want to be down there all the damn time?"

He doesn't seem to be holding a grudge about his thwarted efforts the previous night when he shifts into a better position and gently pushes her legs a little wider apart. He starts slowly, his tongue taking long, hungry strokes as though he's tasting an ice cream on a hot day, and she moans; a long, loud moan filled with need and peppered with an urge she repressed last night when the panic overtook the desire. His fingers spread out across her thighs and his head moves closer, his tongue pushing deeper into her, tasting her with his customary enthusiasm, as her moans grow louder. She knows she's loud, and she knows he loves it...oh, she can be quiet when it's necessary, but this morning they're in a fancy hotel away from home and she doesn't care who's listening, she's going to make as much noise as she wants. When he starts to trace light patterns across her thighs with his thumbs, she pulls her hand from where it's grasping the sheet and moves it down, meeting his halfway as he slides it higher, their tangled fingers coming to rest on her stomach. He appears to be on a mission to make her come as hard as possible as his tongue flicks quickly, lapping up how wet she is. She would like to think it's an apology for the things he kept from her that were revealed at main justice, but it's as likely to be just because he likes to feel her shudder against his lips, her fingers pulling his hair as she moans his name and he murmurs hers.

When he combines a slow slide of his finger inside her with a final hard stroke of his tongue, she lets out something closer to a squeal than a moan as she comes, squeezing his fingers tightly against her as the muscles in her abdomen contract under his hand. For a few long, wonderful seconds, she can barely catch her breath, she can't see anything beyond the hazy lights dancing behind her eyelids, and when she feels him move, his lips placing a soft kiss to her thigh, she opens her eyes lazily and smiles at him.

"Tell me again what you like about that, Billy..." She sighs as he clambers up the bed and settles next to her, propped up on his elbow, his gaze fixing on her, the darkness in his eyes making her stomach twitch all over again.

"You taste like heaven, Mackenzie," he says, shifting close enough that she can feel his breath warm on her cheek. "Like honey with a hint of vanilla and spice."

"I taste like a Starbucks seasonal latte?" She laughs, reaching forward to run a hand down his arm. 

"Mackenzie spiced latte." He closes the tiny space between them to kiss her. "I'd buy it."

"With whipped cream?" She raises her eyebrows and smiles as he kisses her again.

"Always." His voice drops and she lets out a small sigh as the low cadence of his tone rumbles through her and sends a flush into her cheeks.

For a while they watch each other, her hand on his arm, his making small circles around her belly button, which somehow tickles just enough to make her smile, but not enough that she needs him to stop. She wonders if he has learned the right touch for her, if they gradually absorbed each other's needs, their boundaries, or if people are born with someone else whose touch they will know instinctively, even if they are never lucky enough to meet them. Smiling at her own mushy thoughts, she reaches for him and pulls him on top of her, opening her legs for him to settle between, pushing her hips up against his. He moves a hand above her head to brace himself, she thinks it's to take some of his weight off her, but she stops him, wanting him to cover her, yearning to feel his body pressed tight to hers. Her hands move to his face and she pulls his lips down to meet hers, kissing him hard, pushing her tongue into his mouth, her fingers sliding around the back of his neck, her nails scratching across his skin.

"This is the part where you get to bang the sweet holy heck out of me." Her lips move to his cheek, down across his jawline, under his ear, her mouth pausing to gently suck on the spot she knows he can't help but react to.

She's right and he groans faintly, his hands roaming down her arms, to her hips, and when she takes his earlobe lightly between her teeth, she feels him getting hard against her. Bringing her arms around him, she slides her hands down the back of his shorts and pulls him even tighter against her, warmth and wetness flooding through her as he moans her name. Clumsily she tries to drag his shorts off, succeeding only in pulling them down at the back and somehow ending up with them hooked firmly around his erection at the front.

"Hang on." He watches her as she giggles, lifting himself just enough to pull off the shorts and kick them down, somewhere close to his feet, she thinks, although she doesn't care for the details. All she cares is he's naked now and he's hard and pressed up against her, and she's wet again, and coherent thought is impossible.

She pulls her knees up, and wraps her legs around him, crossing her feet across his back, rubbing herself against him, slowly and with a steely determination to let him know she's ready and she wants him inside her. Everyday she's grateful she's marrying a really smart guy, but never more so than now, as he gets her message instantly and reaches down between them to slowly push himself inside her. Moving her legs higher up his back, she feels him slip even deeper and she moans, cries his name and follows with a string of profanities, all of them complimentary as he starts to speed up.

It's fast and hard and everything she wants right now. Even though she doesn't think she's going to come again, she wants him to and the thought of him coming hard inside her makes the hairs on her arms stand up so high she can almost feel every pore as a separate tiny entity. Her mouth crashes against his in a collision of tongues, lips, teeth, and when she sucks lightly on his bottom lip, he drives harder into her. Pulling her lips from his, she moves her head into the crook of his neck, digs her fingers into his back, and lets out a long, satisfied moan. He slows down, tightens his grip on her and comes with a sloppy attempt at her name falling from his lips that makes her smile, happy to have rendered him incapable.

*

"Hey, Charlie." She smiles as she picks up the phone, folding the last of Will's clothes into the suitcase. "We are, yeah...okay, perfect. See you soon."

"Everything okay?" Will walks into the bedroom, dropping his comb into the open suitcase.

"Charlie's on the same flight as we are," she says, zipping the lid closed. "I said we'd meet him downstairs and head out to the airport together."

"Sounds good." He nods, smiling at her. "You want to go get coffee?"

"We have time, yeah, why not." She moves the suitcase to the floor and grabs her purse before sliding her hand into his. "You know what you said yesterday about coming back next year in time for peak bloom?"

"Yeah," he says, pulling her towards the door. "They're pretty good at predicting the dates for it."

"I think we should." She turns to him as they step into the hallway. "I think we should try and do it every year, take a weekend, come down here, walk around, just take a break."

"Okay." He runs his thumb across her knuckle as he looks at her. "And in twenty years we can say we've been coming to see the blossom every year since we were married. Is that the kind of tradition you're aiming for?"

"I don't know...I just think it would be nice." She shrugs, but he's right, she feels like she does want to start something that becomes their _thing_ , and it's odd because she really isn't usually the overly sentimental one. There's a tiny part of her that thinks about bringing a child here year after year, as unlikely as she know that is, a momentarily indulgent thought that she tries to push away.

"Yeah, it would." He grins as she tugs on his hand and starts down the hallway. "I think we can make it happen."

As they step into the elevator and the doors close behind them, she squeezes his hand a little tighter and smiles.


End file.
